Interview with a Riddler
by Spider RedNight
Summary: Five chapters based off the patient interview tapes from Arkham Asylum. Patient's name is Edward Nigma, also known as the Riddler.
1. Patient Interview 21

Dr. Young sighed and made her way through the narrow halls of Intensive Treatment, her pace businesslike and a slightly unimpressed expression adorning her young face. On either side of her were two armed guards, bigger than herself and holding their rifles to their chests in an authoritative fashion. She was holding an old, faded clipboard and she flipped the first page to reveal a second one, her eyes darting across the page quickly. She blocked out the noise that surrounded her; the wailing, screaming, maniacal laughter, sobbing, scratching and scuffling that was typical of most of the patients. Spending so much time in the area had hardened her exterior and she maintained a reputation of being potentially caring, yet stern and wasn't one to beat around the bush.

A few more minutes of walking led her to the end of the narrow hallway where she stopped in front of a pair of electric fences. She knew better than to touch the fences; they were primarily used to keep inmates where they were supposed to be. A couple of years of breakouts and new technology allowed the doctors to insert them. She turned to her left to punch the code in faster than the human eye could catch. A beep followed by the sounds of fading currents of electricity, and the gate was down. She continued on her way, eyeing her destination that was in the following room.

There were four bigger cells than the ones in the Penitentiary, two on each wall. These were the ones that they occasionally put people in when they were just brought in - mostly the ones that could be potentially dangerous. Currently three of the cells were unoccupied and looked very dilapidated, with overturned beds and broken tiles chipping off the walls. However, as she approached the fourth cell across the room, she could immediately tell that this one was indeed occupied, and by a peculiar sort. She stopped at the bars that separated her from the patient inside and she quirked a dark eyebrow curiously at the sight that beheld her; not once had she ever looked in the cells when passing them by to go to other places. Of course, she usually went to the cells of the patients, so she thought it strange that she had never noticed before now; she didn't trust most patients in her office, especially not right off the bat.

This cell was, as far as regularity went, as normal as the rest of the cells, as there were yellowing tiles that flaked off the cracked walls in plates and the brown, sticky, unmentionable fluid that crept down through invisible pores in the ceiling. The floor was littered with crumpled, dirty pieces of paper and layered in miniature stacks in the corners, each with furious scribbling as if someone were in a hurry to get something written down. There were trace amounts of dried blood on the floor, but the bed was neatly made. However, what caught her eye were the many green question marks scrawled on the walls in a wet liquid that left splotches on the hard makeshift canvas. They ranged in size from large to small and didn't seem to be arranged in any particular order. Young tilted her head. She saw something move out of the corner of her eye for a brief instance, but she ignored it. She examined the question marks for a good couple of minutes before a face suddenly appeared before her. She took a step back, startled at the newcomer.

As soon as she stepped back, he straightened his posture and looked down at her, several inches taller than her. He had a thin frame, somewhat gaunt and lanky but still attractive. Young looked up at his face and saw a pair of clear blue eyes looking at her through the bars of the cell and the rectangular glasses that slipped down the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. He had a somewhat angular face but the features weren't too sharp. Somewhat messy brown hair hung around his eyes and he had a sly, casual grin with traces of five o'clock shadow. He looked very suave, yet had a hidden potential to use cleverness to get his way.

"Good day, Dr. Young," He said finally in a calm, smooth voice. Young blinked once before turning her head and nodding at the guards. They nodded in response and positioned themselves on either side of the cell door, their rifles held tightly to their chests. The slightest agitation in their hands could be seen as they pressured the trigger.

Young looked down and examined the notes left by the other doctors; very compulsive, very intelligent, very clever, and very vain. She glanced back up at his handsome face, eyeing him suspiciously for a moment before nodding for one of the guards leaned over and opened the cell door for her, holding it open just wide enough for her to shimmy through the opening. She carefully made her way in and the patient took a few steps back casually. He retreated and sat down on his bed, crossing his legs at the ankles and looking quite graceful despite the crumbling cell that surrounded them. He intertwined his fingers and looked over at Young with a laid-back expression.

Young's eyes danced around the cell briefly, looking for a place to sit. When there didn't seem to be anything, she looked to the guards and one of them nodded and left. While he was gone, no words were exchanged, as both patient and doctor knew that anything not recorded was worth left unsaid. However, this was a perfect opportunity for Young to examine her patient closer. Noticing the tips of his bony fingers, she saw faded green ink and she presumed it was he who drew the question marks all over the cell. She also peered down at the papers that littered the floor and saw that it was indeed writing, though the words were all barely legible and repetitious: Riddle me this. Riddle me this. Riddle me this. She inhaled quietly and repositioned her eyes to fixate on the face of the man that sat before her, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. He had the same calm grin on her face.

A few awkward minutes in silence passed before the guard returned carrying a brittle-looking plastic chair. He opened the doors and placed the chair inside cautiously, the only sounds being the scrape of the metal chair legs on the hard concrete floor. The man's eyes flickered mischievously at the open door for a moment before snapping back to Young, who stared at the guard as he put the chair down. He retreated from the cell and shut the door behind him. Young took her seat and pulled a voice recorder out of her front pocket on her long white lab coat.

"Patient interview number 21," She broke the awkward silence as she read the names off the paper. "Patient's name is Edward Nigma, also known as the Riddler," She said with a perky, yet exact voice. He nodded when she said both of his titles with an authoritative air about them, as if he knew exactly what was happening and that everyone around him should acknowledge this inconceivable fact. "So, Edward…" She looked up from the paper-laden clipboard on her crossed legs and into his clear blue eyes. He slowly gazed back at her and his smile faltered ever-so-slightly. "Warden Sharp tells me you've been leaving threatening messages scrawled on the Asylum walls… again." She added the last part quietly, as if unsure whether she wanted to share this information with him. He leaned back slightly and shifted his position to rest one ankle on his other knee.

"One would have to be severely paranoid to read threats into harmless riddles, Dr. Young," He said after a brief pause. His voice was smooth and very sure, every word seeming to roll off his tongue almost as if he had planned what he was going to say hours in advance. It was a suave tone, with slight cockiness hidden in the syllables. She had no reaction; she predicted that he would behave as such against an accusation like that. "May I test you with one?" He asked somewhat out of the blue. She quirked an eyebrow and shifted slightly and in an uncomfortable fashion. Her gaze remained nonplussed, however.

"Very well," She said after a short moment of hesitation. Truth be told, she was a bit interested in what he considered to be a riddle, much less a good one. She leaned forward slightly, gazing at him through serious brown eyes.

"What is it that walks on four legs, then two legs, and finally three legs?" He inquired simply. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"A human being," She said without a thought; that was one of the oldest riddles in the book. "As a baby it crawls on four legs, as an adult, it walks on two, and in later years, it uses a cane." She explained with a somewhat blatant obviousness that the riddle wasn't difficult at all and that she was rather unamused at being asked such a trivial thing. She smiled and crossed her arms after her short explanation, but her grin slid off her face when he only chuckled slyly in return.

"Good try, but the answer to all three is a baby," He corrected her. "True it crawls around on all fours, but cut off it's legs and it can only wiggle on two limbs," He leaned forward and pointed to her with two fingers shaped like a gun with his clasped hands. "Give it a crutch, and it can hobble around on three," He finished, then tapping a finger on one of his temples. "You see?" All the while, she sat there in disgust; as soon as he said this, she realized why he was in intensive treatment.

"That's horrible," She reprimanded him sternly, straightening her back with disapproval. "How can you even joke about that?" She demanded, quite unsure about how he could tell her so calmly and explain it as if the answer were obviously not what she had expected.

"Easily doctor," He said smoothly, leaning back once more and placing his hands behind his head in a relaxed fashion. "It's not my baby," He said with a sudden darkness in his voice, a dangerous, venomous tone that immediately told her that this session was over. Young reached into her pocket and stopped the recorder. She stood up abruptly, trying to hide the mingled emotions that almost overtook her mind. She motioned at the guards and they opened the doors of the cell, one of them going in to retrieve the chair while Young hurried out of the questioning cell. All the while, Nigma remained in the nonchalant position, smiling and following Young's movements with his tricky blue eyes.

"Have a good one, doctor," He cooed after her as the cell door shut behind the guard holding the chair. She didn't respond and hastily added notes to the clipboard, furrowing her brow in irritation and concern.


	2. Patient Interview 39

A week had passed since Dr. Young had an interview with Edward Nigma; their last meeting, her twenty-seventh interview, had ended on an even more bitter note; he had finished their conversation by refusing to speak to her after she called his tactics childish and obvious. Every day since then for a week, every time she would attempt communication with him, he would turn the other way, cross his arms and legs, and avoid any contact with him.

She tried again today, after taking the same long path to reach his cell with its ever-expanding decorations; every time she visited, there was at least one more bunch of papers and a new question mark on the wall. She paid her surroundings little regard and tried to focus on the man inside as she rapped on the cell bars sharply three times. Edward, who was lounging on his bed nonchalantly, arms behind his head in mock relaxation, turned his head and looked up at Young. She hesitated for a moment to wait on what he was going to do. Slowly, Edward gave her a seemingly innocent smile. She sighed softly and motioned for the guard to place the stiff plastic chair in the cell; they learned since last time to bring one along.

"Taped interview 39. Patient's name is Edward Nigma," Getting out her voice recorder, she performed the usual customs as they set up her environment. Edward remained where he was. "At this point in time I have yet to decide if Mr. Nigma is a suitable candidate for the Titan process." She added under her breath before turning off the recorder.

He sat up as she went into the cell, sitting in the exact same position that he had the first time they met. She sat in her chair, resting her clipboard on her crossed legs lightly. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the voice recorder, clicking the record button again.

"I'd like to talk about your childhood," She stated, leaving it wide open for Edward to respond. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and paused for a moment.

"Miserable," He replied shortly, shrugging as he did so. "Next?" He asked promptly; as far as he was concerned, this conversation was over. However, Young wasn't done nearly as quickly as he was keen to move on.

"By all accounts that is where your fascination with riddles began," She plowed on, but not before receiving a scowl from Edward. "I believe discussing those years could explain your compulsive behavior." She noted. He uncrossed his arms and rolled his eyes as he looked away from Young, his head making a motion as if he couldn't believe she ignored his answer in the first place.

"Very well…" He said with a sigh. He looked up, furrowing his brow in what would've been contemplation if Young didn't know any better; he knew exactly what he was talking about, he was just playing dumb to waste their time… or pass his time, to say in the least. "My father hated me. Always called me a moron." He said with a hint of disdain in his voice; the experience wasn't a pleasant one to discuss, and he was frustrated as to why they had to talk about it.

"I see," Young said quietly, looking down and jotting something down on her clipboard. His blue eyes flashed to the clipboard for a fraction of a moment before she finished her note and he quickly looked away to avoid them locking eyes.

"I was determined to prove him wrong, so I entered a contest at school. A twenty dollar prize to the kid who could figure out an almost impossible logic problem," He looked up again, recalling the memory. He then smiled. "I won, of course," He said with the air that it was only obvious that he would win something so simple.

"And this pleased your father?" She asked somewhat hopefully; she was tired of sob-stories and excuses and partially hoped that he would say yes and she could leave for the day. For some reason, being around him filled her with a discomforting feeling that she were being secretly analyzed and that his avoiding her gaze was really a method of intimidation. Either way, it somewhat unnerved her, but she wasn't sure if she was scared or annoyed.

"Hardly," He said heatedly, and she raised her eyebrows slightly at the sarcastic tone that was suddenly evident in his voice. "He was convinced I had cheated. He kept yelling, 'You must've cheated! Admit it, you moron, you cheated!'" He imitated in an angry voice, turning his gaze to one of the guards standing just outside his door. He saw the guard tense up slightly and decided that this would be his primary focus until the right moment. "I swore I didn't, and he hit me for lying," he concluded, turning the rest of his body to face the guard and now fully in control of his movement; before, resisting the urge to look at Young was hard, but with every word he said that was said out of passion and hatred, he had found himself becoming slyer and succeeding in his tactics.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Edward," Young replied with little sympathy in her voice, leaning back and resting her hands on the clipboard. Edward scoffed and blinked slowly.

"Don't be," He said in a casual tone. He then directed his piercing gaze sideways to Young. "He was right," He said with a small shrug. Young was, once again, completely thrown off guard and she blinked rather stupidly. She then reached for the recorder and clicked the record button. She then stood and smoothed out her skirt before turning and walking out of the cell. The guard entered cautiously and took the chair as she replaced the recorder in its rightful place and took one small note on the clipboard.

"Have a good one, doctor," The words fell from his lips softly, cascading like cool water from smooth rocks. She frowned and looked back at him.

"Is this going to become a customary habit," She asked slightly over her shoulder. Edward looked up, rubbing his hands together. "Only asking because you didn't say it last time we met. Wondering if you…" She hesitated for a second. "Forgot."

"Oh, I didn't forget," He said, looking straight ahead. "I was mad at you last time; I was honestly hoping that you'd fall off the face of the earth. Obviously," He sighed. "that didn't happen."


	3. Patient Interview 44

"Patient interview number 44," Dr. Young said to her voice recorder as she sat at the neat, organized desk in her neat, organized office. "This is yet another interview with Edward Nigma." She said with a tired tone in her voice; she was past the point of wanting to go to his cell every time to have him hand her snide answers that avoided her direct questions. "I've yet to make up my mind whether he's a genius or just deluded," She said with a half-bitter tone, rolling her eyes. "Whichever one he is," She started, looking up and seeing his handsome face looking in her window, standing right next to a built, heavy-set guard. His clear blue eyes were gazing at her and a sly smile decorated his face. "…just being in his presence is both irritating and exhausting," She sighed as she finished. She looked up and nodded slightly, adjusting her desk to accommodate her guest. The guards opened the door and Edward sauntered in nonchalantly as if the guards were butlers holding the door open just for him. He had confidence in his step, graceful and impressive, almost as if he were leading someone in a slow waltz over to her desk. He pulled out his seat and sat down with dignity, leading her to roll her eyes behind closed eyelids.

"Hello, Ms. Young." He chimed in a sickeningly cheerful voice; the venom that pulsed through his veins, colouring everything he touched to green was evident in his tone. She didn't seem impressed and he put on a fake pout. "You look tired…" He stated and she frowned indignantly. "Anything you need my help with?" He asked with a certain false pity; he already knew the answer, he was just playing around with her emotions and decided to let her know that this certainly wasn't his idea. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs in a somewhat feminine manner, setting his hands on his knees neatly and eying Doctor Young with intense blue eyes.

"No, thank you, Edward," She replied with slight exasperation, leaning forward in her own seat and keeping her own elegant eyes on his and holding a pencil in her hand while it absentmindedly left light marks on her paper as she adjusted in her seat. "I'm here to help you. We all are," She said, and he quirked his eyebrow before his blue eyes darted around the room, half-lidded with disbelief and arrogance. He looked back at her, his expression saying "Really?" And she raised her eyebrows as if to say. "Yes, really." He relaxed his pose slightly and scoffed lightly.

"Forgive my arrogance Doctor, but if you think I need _your_ help, well…" He looked up for a brief moment, baring his teeth in contemplation. "You're in the right place," He completed his sentence with a suave tone, eyes falling back on her with the same coolness they held before. She furrowed her brow in thought for a second, her expression turning slightly confused, and she closed her eyes and waved her hands slightly.

"Let's look at it a different way," She started and he frowned slightly, keeping his eyes half-closed yet quirking an eyebrow, hardly anticipating which direction she was attempting to go with this. She took advantage of his silence, continuing and looking to her clipboard for more information. "Throughout your career, you've specialized in bizarre traps and convoluted clues that, more often than not, result in the death of the unfortunate participants." She said, summarizing what she read. Edward stared at her, a cocky grin sliding onto his face as she repeated his file.

"And if the citizens of Gotham were any smarter," He said as if continuing where she left off. "my games would merely be an amusing diversion." He finished smugly, crossing his arms and looking away from Young with a satisfaction that gave her the familiar sign that he didn't want to talk about it any more. However, Young wasn't done yet.

"You mean instead of deathtraps," She offered smartly, tapping on the clipboard lightly with the eraser of her pencil and blinking at Edward with the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. A flash of irritation crossed Edward's face, but he avoided looking at her and leaned his head back, popping his neck as an aggressive movement.

"You _really _should be thanking me," He said dangerously. "Weeding out the ignorant, the stupid, the useless," He listed, each adjective getting more venomous. "But don't worry," He said abruptly, all manner of negativity gone from his voice and body language. He uncrossed his arms and looked back at Young, leaning forward and placing his arms on her desk. She instinctively leaned back faintly. "I'm sure YOU would survive." He beamed at her with his handsome smile, and she was immediately set to defense; he had something planned and she snatched up her clipboard and started to scribble furious notes on it, trying to avoid his gaze.

He, in the meantime, looked around slightly, puckering out his lips in a bored fashion and finding a picture on her desk. He reached out and took the picture off her desk and examined it with mock fondness. "What a lovely photo on your desk, doctor," He said as he gazed at the woman in the picture. "Your family?" He asked before adding, "Mother, perhaps?"

She looked up for a brief moment and her eyes fell on the picture. "Put that down!" She exclaimed, scooting her chair back and standing up, seizing the picture from him. "Get out!" She demanded as she held the photo to her chest and glared down at him. He returned the intensity of the glare, a wide smile across his face and his upper teeth barely visible; he had gotten through to her. "Guards!" She called, reaching forward and stopping the recording hastily as the guards burst through the door and each took one of Edward's arms within their own. They realized how light he was and they shifted the weight; now one was dragging him while the other had his weapon trained on his face.

"Have a good one, doctor!" He called cheerily as he was being dragged off. She shuddered and placed the picture back down on her desk carefully and leaning against the edge of the desk for support.


	4. Patient Interview 55

"Let's discuss your obsession with Batman," Doctor Young suggested as she looked down at her clipboard in contemplation. She had a calm look on her face, as if their last few visits together hadn't been stressful; indeed, he had made sure to torture her with subliminal motions and small, miniscule actions that he was sure irritated her. She maintained a decent amount of patience and managed to scrape by with a couple of sessions with him… albeit, they were rather short as she eventually lost her patience and had him escorted out of her office. In fact, she wondered why they were even still having sessions IN her office.

"Hardly an obsession, Miss Young," He replied immediately after she mentioned the topic. He was leaning back in his chair with his crossed legs resting on the edge of her desk. He kept his half-lidded, sharp blue eyes on her face. She quirked an eyebrow; he really didn't consider this an obsession? "I simply feel an obligation to expose him," He said with a tone in his voice that suggested it was a great personal burden that he himself decided to adopt and carry on his own. Young looked up at him.

"You know who he is?" Young asked in a somewhat given voice, one that implied that he certainly had no idea who he was and that she was just asking out of mock politeness. He leaned forward and quirked his eyebrow, a sly smile creeping across his thin lips onto his handsome face.

"More important, I know WHAT he is," He said in a low voice. She looked at him in mock surprise, leaning away slightly and giving him a somewhat bewildered look.

"What do you mean?" She asked and, for once, it appeared as if he didn't know if she was being serious or just sarcastic. However, he didn't let this affect him and he himself leaned back, crossing his arms and closing his eyes.

"It's obvious," He said in a light tone, starting to wave one of his hands in a circular motion in the air lazily as he started to list. "The mask, the weapons, the _scare _tactics…" He looked at her with his intense blue eyes. "He's a criminal. No different than Joker, or Two-Face… or myself," He added dangerously, though his voice didn't drop as it usually did when he wanted to invoke an emotional response out of her.

"Most people consider him a hero," She replied indifferently; most people DID consider him a hero, vigilante or not. Just another of Edward's delusions that he allowed himself to fabricate and believe, and she was completely determined not to let him get to her today.

"MOST people are idiots," He said abruptly, her words tracing through his quick-thinking brain and him agreeing with her in the worst possible way. He snapped out of his nonchalant pose and leaned forward, scooting his chair back and invoking a reaction in which she automatically took up her clipboard and moved back a few inches. "They can't see Batman for the villain he is," He said smartly, leaning forward over the clean desk further. "_Riddle me this_…" He said loudly and obviously, clenching a fist on the desk. He then exhaled and shut his eyes with what seemed to be painstaking patience; in his mind, she was definitely not making this easy for him. "…How did he get his car and his gadgets?" He asked in the calmest voice he could muster.

She looked slightly afraid at first, then the fear melted to make way for confused. "I don't, uh…" She muttered; it was true, she didn't know how he got any of the things he got… then again, it really wasn't her business, of course, she didn't get to think about it for long when Edward took it upon himself to finish for her.

"With money stolen from the criminals he defeats," He answered his own question as if it were coming from her mouth; he spoke in a knowing voice, a new answer that hadn't even been thought of until the question was brought to light. "Why do you think Gordon turns a blind eye to his antics? Batman bribes him!" He continued, waving an arm at the space to his right. "The answers are right in front of your stupid gawking face!" He banged his hand on the table as he said each derogatory term, his other hand pointing to his own face as if he shared one with her.

"Edward, please, calm down…" She started, trying to sound rather calm herself; then again, it was easier said than done when you had a mental case like the Riddler standing in front of you, getting physical with your desk and shouting ludicrous nonsense such as the fact that Batman bribes Commissioner Gordon. However, he ignored her and pulled his head in close to her, looking down at the small tape recorder that was on the desk.

"Wake up, Gotham!" He snarled not in a shout, but in his loud, venomous voice before smiling deliriously and reproaching back to his side of the desk. He reached up and ran a slender hand through his teasingly messy brown hair, making a small noise between a half-hearted sob and a mad chuckle. He inhaled, fell back into his chair, and continued. "No sane, law abiding man DOES those sort of things," He said, starting to ring his hands and rock back and forward in his chair, causing it to emit small noises that creaked with age and strain. "No one's that selfless!" He said, now staring ahead at nothing in particular with his cold blue eyes. His arm absent-mindedly started scratching at his other arm in a nervous twitch… at least, that's how it appeared; Young couldn't make any differentiation between that and purposefully self-inflicted pain. However, she was now on the alert. "BATMAN'S as vile as they come!" He snapped, making a sharp movement with his hand as he emphasized the word "Batman". Young looked down and saw blood starting to draw from his arm where his sharp nails rubbed his skin raw.

"Security!" She shouted, deciding that this session was over. "Security-" She called again, reaching over and stopping the recorder. She remained seated as the same two guards came into the room, one prying apart Edward's arms and taking him, the other pointing his rifle at the thin man's chest. Edward said nothing in reply, but allowed himself to be "shown" out after giving a brief struggle to undo his bleeding arms from each other. He was breathing heavily and a twitch was tugging at one of his eyes which shot Young a look as he left. She looked after him, her own expression quite serene if not showing some concern, be that genuine or alarmed or whatever. When he failed to call out his familiar farewell phrase, she furrowed her brow and let the faintest of smiles tug on the edge of her full lips; for once, she had gotten through to him first.


	5. Patient Interview 76

Patient Interview 76

Dr. Young sighed softly as she scribbled something down on Edward Nigma's evaluation sheet. She was just arriving at the penitentiary and two heavy-set guards took their places on either side of her. She reached into a pocket of her long, white lab coat and pulled out a handheld tape recorder.

"This is my final interview with Edward," She said to the recorder as they walked. "I've gone as far as I can," She said patiently; she wasn't sure whether this was a good or bad thing. "I can no longer tolerate his mood swings and tantrums." It was a good thing. "I have more important work to be getting on with," She said matter-of-factly as she and the two guards turned a corner. "He will be transferred into Dr. Whistler's care as of next week." She concluded, pressing the stop button and stopping herself right in front of Edward's cell.

The lean man was sitting on the edge of his grimy bed, bent over and rubbing his hands together as his elbows rested on his knees. When he heard her approach, his head snapped up and his clear blue eyes darted to her face. She almost remembered all those months ago, when she had her first interview with him. His hair was relatively neat, he had fewer creases on his face, his five o'clock shadow was almost… He was quite handsome for an Arkham inmate. Now, as he smiled up at her, he looked tired, aware, nearly afraid that something would happen. However, his eyes still held that proud cleverness; he had done a good job of maintaining the fact that he considered himself a genius, the smartest being, a worthy adversary who could prove his wits.

The rickety chair the guard fetched apprehensively waited for her inside the cell and she made her way in with silent grace. She wanted to get this over with.

"Good morning, Doctor!" He chirped cheerfully, looking at her with brightness in his alert blue eyes as she sat down and adjusted herself. "How are you today?"

"Fine, thank you, Edward…" He answered before quirking an eyebrow at him. "You're in a good mood," She added with a somewhat confused tone.

"I'm always in rare spirits when I'm about to be released," As he said the last word with a smile, he leaned forward and tilted his head slightly. Young blinked uneasily.

"Edward, you know you don't come up for parole for another three years," She pointed out, using her pen as a visual.

"First thing I'll do is have dinner at that Italian place on 19th Street…" Edward leaned back and looked up in mock contemplation. A dreamy look came across his gaunt face and he closed his eyes.

"Seriously, Edward…" Young started.

"I only hope Joker hasn't completely trashed the city," He interrupted, his dreamy expression still on his face. He opened his eyes and looked at Young. "Oh, well," He shrugged cheerfully. "I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Wait, have you been in contact with the Joker?" Dr. Young uttered. "He escaped from Arkham weeks ago!" Indeed, it was an uproarious day she didn't wish to touch up on.

"And yet, one hears things…" Edward said slowly and enigmatically; he recognized early that this conversation was his. Young leaned forward.

"What things? What have you heard?" She demanded somewhat desperately.

"Oh, something about a surprise party for Batman. I forget the rest. You know Joker: yak yak yak," Edward replied, waving a hand absent-mindedly as if it were just gossip. He leaned back further and crossed his legs as he spoke, furthering the feel that it was just a rumour.

"Edward, if you know anything, you need to tell me!" Young said, almost dropping her clipboard. He voice was firm, yet afraid. "Lives could be at stake!" She proclaimed as if it would help persuade him to tell her anything. "What did Joker say?" She asked loudly.

He looked over at her with half-lidded, nonchalant eyes. He had a smugly casual grin on his thin, shadowy face. "You forget, Doctor…" He narrowed his eyes and his grin widened. "_I'm the one who asks the riddles_." He reached up casually and tapped a finger on his temple lightly. Young blinked and paused for a long moment before reaching into her pocket and pressing the stop button. She got to her feet slowly and pushed the chair away slightly. She said nothing while he stared at her with intelligent blue eyes. She exited the cell and glanced at Edward one more time to see if maybe, just maybe, he'd cave and tell her everything he knew.

Nothing happened.

She sighed, shook her head, and departed, but not before hearing him call "Have a good one, Doctor."


End file.
